Kinder Fates
by StrifeXT
Summary: Worn in body and spirit, Kenshin seeks solace from his blood-soaked past in Kaoru's arms. However, fate is neither kind nor fair, and memories of a mysterious woman inexorably draw Kenshin back to 1866, 2 years after the death of Tomoe and the events leading to the end of the Bakumatsu war. This is the story of Kenshin's second great love of his life and the strings of fate.
1. Chapter 1 - Memories

**Foreword  
**Hello, and thanks for reading! Please feel free to skip this paragraph and jump right to the story as I merely try to share the origins and history behind this story. This is an idea I first had about 10 years ago, back in the days when I first watched RK's OVA featuring Tomoe as a runny-nosed runt. I thought their relationship was so tragic and yet so beautiful, in how they were able to find their precious happiness in the mundane days spent in a rural farm, away from the turmoil of that blood-stained era. Fair warning to you, I'm a sucker both for romance and tragedy. As such, I wrote the first chapter of a fanfic on my writing journal with Kenshin's second great love of his life, after Tomoe and before Kaoru. Recently I found said journal while rummaging around in boxes of old stuff while moving away. This brought back to me this beautiful story which I did not at the moment have enough courage and commitment to share with others and see through. I sincerely hope you enjoy this story, which warmed my own heart while I thought of it and put it down in writing, both 10 years ago and now (yes, even now as an older dude). Depending on whether you find it interesting, I'd be delighted to share further chapters. I'd share a more detailed summary of the story, but I'd hate to spoil it for you!

**Genre: **Romance / Drama / Angst / Supernatural (A little)

**Kinder Fates**

**Chapter 1**

**Memories**

**October 23, Year 1880**

Memories, they are such fragile constructs of the human mind - brittle pieces of a shattered yesterday. A day, a moment, an instant: nothing but ashes, abandoned vestiges from another life. Another person. Yet, Kenshin wondered, why must they cut so sharply still? Wondered and winced. So frail, and yet so compelling. Dead many years since, the man to whom these memories belong, for he was no longer the legendary manslayer, the Hitokiri Battousai, and yet still they haunted him, impossibly vivid in his mind's eye where his soul breathed life into them. Nightmares that stalked his every dream, even his most lifelike ones.

This WAS a dream, wasn't it?

"Kenshin?"

The voice pierced through the haze he'd been drowning in like a blazing beam of golden sunlight through a misty labyrinth of mirrors and shades that pursued him relentlessly. The shades had names and faces. The faces, invariably streaked with blood, or tears, or both, they always hurt the most..

"Kenshin?"

Real concern entered the voice now, and he stood frozen in surprise as he focused his eyes to find himself gazing deeply into twin orbs of spun midnight blue glass.

"K, Kaoru-dono?" His voice echoed his own puzzlement. Why was she staring at him, close enough for him to breathe in her fresh scent of herbal soap? "Wh.. what's wrong?" If he stammered a little, it surely wasn't his fault.

After all, he had merely been rinsing away the last batch of soiled clothes. As usual, the simple, monotonous task of scrubbing away at the dirt and shaking the suds loose was somehow deeply soothing and even therapeutic to some extent, especially as he listened to Kaoru's spirited kiais in the background as she practiced her sword strokes using her shinai. In these clear-cast autumn afternoons, he almost felt as if the cool breeze that swept away the gentle clouds above might also wash away his sins.

_Even though it was all my fault._

"Kenshin?" Her renewed query, filled with genuine concern and accompanied by the slightest of tremors, was enough to jolt him out of his guilt-ridden past and back to staring at his reflection gazing back at him from within Kaoru's impossibly crystal clear eyes, only they were now shadowed slightly with worry. She really was pure and virtuous to a fault, and her gaze attested to this. So easy to read, even now, that he unwittingly recalled - not for the first time - the doubts Aoshi had confided to him that perhaps she would never make a truly fearsome fighter. After all, you could see her whole life unraveling within her eyes, shifting from one shade of dazzling blue to another, changing as swiftly as her mercurial spirit. Admirable, even captivating as it was, when perched upon the razor-sharp divide between victory and defeat, the ability to read your opponent – or in this case, to be read - could easily swing the outcome to either side.

Then again, perhaps this purity of character was the true essence of her strength. Kaoru as she indulgently helped the sisters, Ayame-chan and Suzume-chan tie their hair back, Kaoru as she scolded Sano or berated Yahiko, or even now, as she unreservedly gave herself into her concern for him, she was always true to herself. This translated into the incredible resilience and fortitude of spirit that had first led her attempt to capture him, the infamous Hitokiri Battousai, back when they had first met. Who would have thought in time they would stand like this, scant inches apart, feeling the cadence of each other's breath fluttering lightly against their skin?

Her reaction only added to his surprise. Instead of hastily pulling back, flushing in that endearing shade of pink of hers and stammering a few bumbling excuses, or abruptly pulling her gaze down and shoving him away with a strength that belied her petite body, she just stood there, letting him soak in the sheer earthiness of her. As though she were connected in some mysterious fashion to the land, and the trees, and the world around her, and thus in turn knew some deep secret that might earn him redemption, and ultimately, forgiveness, here she stood before him, potently and vibrantly alive.

Suddenly, his heart hammered against his chest and his pulse beat wildly in his ears. He felt awash in emotions so strong he felt a fresh wave of fear course tingling through his veins - an unidentifiable sense of foreboding, of desperate need and desire, not of the flesh – well, not exclusively so – but rather of the spirit. He felt connected to her, as though she were the gentle sun and him the last frost of winter aching for the first kiss of spring. She was so precious, so impossibly, heart-achingly beautiful: Her lavender eyes, ever so clear, and yet so mysterious, so unfathomably deep that he could fall endlessly into them. Her smile, the way her rosy lips gently curved without showing her teeth, with just the slightest dimples in her flawless alabaster cheeks. The few strands of hair that somehow always escaped her intricate hairpins and invited his touch, even the single lock of snow-white hair that fell across her face just so, awaiting for his hand to brush it back and caress her skin.

It crushed the breath out of him, this moment. That serene smile seemed to drain strength from his limbs even as it imbued him with life. No, not just life. Something far more precious, something a murderer like him should never even have aspired to. Had not even dared to.

Hope.

It was the perfect moment, hanging in time and space, floating in a sanctuary of light that would never be snuffed out, even in the midst of the storm of their lives in this blood-soaked era. His sole solace, the singular bloom in the bleak winter of his existence, this was her.

_Please, please let her never be taken from my side. Stay with me, forever._

Unable to contain himself any longer, he found the words to gave wings to his prayer and breathed, "Naomi.."

"Kens-" Her voice was cut off so abruptly, so swiftly, and so painfully, it startled him out of his reverie. Within her eyes, those ever-so-clear windows to her soul, her pupils slowly widened by the second as mild concern was instantly replaced by surprise, then slowly unbearable sorrow came crashing down like a wave and inexorably drowned it all out. She didn't even have time to blink away the tears.

Rather, she probably didn't even notice when they slipped past her eyes, and silently rolled down her cheeks.

_What is going on? Why is she crying? What's wrong? Something.. something is not right. Somehow.._

"Naomi?" He called out again, suddenly desperate, like a man who slowly awakens and lurches forward, chasing after a fading dream, "Naomi, what's wrong? Why are you cr..?"

Shock almost drove Kenshin to his knees. Kaoru stood staring blindly ahead, tears streaming freely down her face, unnoticed. Kaoru, not.. not Naomi. That was why Kaoru was crying. There was no Naomi, no lavender eyes, no snow-white lock of hair either. But.. then what was this ache deep within his heart, as if he'd just lost something very precious, very dear to him? What, no, who was Naomi?

Fading away on the gossamer wings of a dream within a dream, a gentle whisper reached his ears, in which only four words remained, indelibly etched in his mind and branded across his heart.

_Naomi.. _

_Stay with me.._


	2. Chapter 2 - Strongest Woman Alive

**Chapter 2**

**Strongest Woman Alive**

**October 23, 1880**

"What are you talking about? A point is a point, fairly won! Admit it!"

"What I'm saying is that I know you favor that arm of yours, and.."

"Gah, not my arm again. You always mention that when you lose to me."

"Hey, I didn't lose baka, I just went easy on you because otherwise Tsubame would be fussing all over you again."

"Wha! Like hell! Gah! I'm done arguing with you, you dolt. I feel myself going dumber just talking to you, at this rate I'll be included as the other moronic disciple from Kamiya Dojo."

"What do you mean other moro.. What the..! Fine! We'll just ask Kenshin then."

"Fine! Let him settle this. Whoever wins takes Tsubame-chan to the puppet show that just came to town."

"Wh.. What?! Why are you involving her in this? And I told you not to call her so familiarly!"

"Heheh, I think you're just afraid you'll lose. And Tsubame-chan doesn't have a problem with it. In fact, it might be just the opposite."

"R.. Ridiculous! That's it! Let's settle this once and for all. To the dojo! Now!"

"Unlike you, I know how to pace myself. Besides, we still need to report to Kenshin-san and Kaoru-san," said Yutaro as he unceremoniously swung the front door open, shaking his head slightly as he stepped inside the yard and heaved a heavy sigh. "Seriously, whenever I look at you I worry that they'll think Kamiya Dojo is all brawn and no brain. The future looks bleak.."

Yahiko flushed as he followed his fellow disciple inside, waving his shinai angrily in the air, his knuckles white as they gripped the handle tightly. "You.. you're one to talk! You can't even take one point from me out of four yet. At this rate, all you'll be doing is wiping the floor and airing out the tatami mats for the next 20 years."

"Well! If I'd been living under the same roof as Kenshin-san and Kaoru-san for half as long as you have, I would be wiping the floor alright - with you!"

"Hah, big words.. Ooof!" This last came as Yahiko bumped into Yutaro's back and the handle of the shinai the latter carried strapped to his back came perilously close to poking his eye out. "Woa, what's the big idea? Why'd you stop all of a su.."

"K.. Kaoru-san?" Yutaro's voice had suddenly become hesitant and very small. "Kenshin-san, what is going on? Why is she..?" the words in his mouth died before he could complete the sentence.

Swinging around Yutaro's back, Yahiko was just as thunderstruck as his fellow disciple. Kaoru, no matter what he shouted at her or how much he complained, was one of the strongest people he knew, a true master he'd come to respect and love deeply and in equal measure - which was why it was all the more shocking to watch her standing mutely in front of Kenshin as tears flowed in an unceasing stream, staining her clothes and splashing on the ground. What was even more disconcerting was that she had not made a single sound, nor moved a single muscle. She just stood rooted in place, her eyes silently asking Kenshin a question, or perhaps an entreaty, a demand of some kind.

Kenshin seemed to know this, but it went no further than a wordless acquiescence, as he was equally paralyzed, and Yahiko thought he had never seen him look as helpless and tortured as he saw him now, except perhaps for those terrible days when everyone had though Kaoru was dead, lost forever to this world, back when the whole Enishi affair had gone down.

Yahiko felt as though he should say something, anything, so long as it could fill this unbearable silence, but his tongue felt leaden in his mouth, and it was all he could do to swallow noisily to clear his dry throat. Yutaro seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and several times he opened his mouth as though to speak again, but his initial questions when he first stepped into the scene had more to do with inertia than actual will. The heavy atmosphere inside the yard was now oppressive and suffocating, overly so. It was as though this had become one of those still-frame gaijin picture frames, with everything frozen in place. Everything, except for the tears that just would not stop.

* * *

"Yahiko, please help me take these into the dining room. They are ready." Kenshin's voice was monotone and devoid of feeling, and he moved as though he were a puppet with half his strings cut, and the rest just barely hanging on. "Yahiko?"

"Ah, of course Kenshin. Sure, I got it," stammered the boy, for he had seldom felt so small, young and helpless as he did now. He didn't know what to say or what to do, how to make things right. He couldn't even figure out what was wrong.

"Thank you," mumbled Kenshin, turning back to the pot. Yahiko thought he might be reading too much into it, but somehow it seemed as though Kenshin was thanking Yahiko for far more than just carrying the food out.

Dinner that evening was a subdued affair, far from the usual chaos that ensued whenever both Yutaro and he stayed over for dinner. By this point, Kaoru would have been shaking her fist and scolding Kenshin for letting them stay over, while her two chagrined disciples would nevertheless still be plotting on how to steal his rival's tastiest side dishes. All the while Kenshin simply smiled and mumbled that it was good, dinner that is.

Not tonight. Kenshin had just shaken his head quietly when Yutaro had looked in askance to him, pointing to Kaoru's room. Yutaro's relief was palpable, and so was his downcast, guilt-ridden expression as he took his seat in front of the food.

_Well, at least I'm not the only one who feels so helpless I think I might go mad._

They barely spoke as they ate, slowly and woodenly. Several times during the meal, Kenshin would ask a question or two, about how the training session had gone at the other Dojo, how sensei was faring, what strokes they favored. Yutaro and Yahiko replied monosyllabically, with a yes or no, and Kenshin never prompted for any further answers. They could tell his heart was simply not in it.

"Kenshin, what is this?" Kaoru's voice startled all three of them, and looking up from his bowl to Yutaro, who was squatting across from him,Yahiko was gratified to see that he had not been the only one coughing up his dinner. "If you're going to serve dinner, you should at least have told me. I've been starving all day, especially after this afternoon's practice. Yahiko, you were just trying to hog all the food to yourself, weren't you? And Yutaro, I expected better from you. Seriously, men."

"K.. Kaoru-dono.." Kenshin's voice sounded very small, and so frail it was hard to believe this was the strongest man, the warrior who embodied the qualities of the samurai that Yahiko had vowed to achieve.

_I suppose even the sharpest sword must yield to his sheath?_

The unusually keen observation surprised him, but of late, watching Kaoru and Kenshin together along with the slowly unfolding bloom of his own experiences with Tsubame, had opened his eyes to a new world. Perhaps this was what it meant to be an adult. And Kenshin and Kaoru, they were perfect for one another. He hoped one day, perhaps, he himself and Tsubame would..

Yahiko was startled out of his epiphany as Kaoru laid a surprisingly gentle hand on his head and fondly patted his hair down. "Yahiko, can you scoot over? I'm famished, ne?"

Yahiko was barely able to shut his mouth in time before he spilled all the food he'd been chewing, and bowing his head down, he nodded uncertainly as he moved over to make room next to Kenshin, who had still not uttered a single word besides her name, but sat mutely while watching Kaoru, as though his eyes could speak the words his mouth could not.

"Kenshin, I've been meaning to ask," Kaoru commented as she gracefully folded into place next to Kenshin. "Why don't we buy new place mats for the dinner table? These are getting a little ragged, and just the other day Tae-san said she knew a great place, and could get us a good discount using Akabeko's.."

The rest of the evening was a blur. Slowly, as though by magic, Kaoru breathed life back into the room. She gently chided Yutaro for eating too quickly, and poured him some tea, which he took awkwardly, as though accepting some holy relic from a saint, then glanced guiltily at Yahiko, as though to say it wasn't his fault, and he had no idea what was going on either. Yahiko himself could only watch mutely as Kaoru – who was this woman? Surely not the current master of the Kamiya Kasshin-ryu, his oft-times torturer and sadistic slave-driver? - gracefully took hold of his face in her hands before he could protest or move away, and slowly wiped the corners of his mouth. In any other night, in any other fashion, such treatment would have instantly incensed him and sent him springing up from the table in a fury, faster than even Kenshin could draw his sakabatou. He was Myojin Yahiko, a true samurai! He would not be.. fussed over and babied, least of all by..!

However, tonight it was all he could do to keep hold of his rice bowl, as strangely the ground seemed to be shifting from under him, heaving back and fro. He knew he was blushing furiously, but it had nothing at all to do with indignation. He was breathing heavily as his eyes wandered around the room, desperately seeking some distraction, or better yet, an explanation, which for some unfathomable reason he was foolishly certain lurked somewhere in the darkest, smallest corner of the tiny room.

"I'm sorry, you don't like it when I fuss over you, do you?" smiled Kaoru, her voice soft and even, her warm breath raising goosebumps on his skin.

"I.. U.. Ugl.. Ah, baka, I don't know, I don't.. I don't mind so much, stop asking," fumbled Yahiko, the words tumbling out of his mouth. Why had he been unable to say it, call her ugly woman, the way he usually would?

He had his answer as he desperately pushed himself away from her, embarrassed and unsure of the why or how. He just knew he had to get away. As he awkwardly disentangled himself from her hands, his gaze glanced off of her eyes, Kaoru's lightning blue eyes. Only, tonight were was no lightning, no thunder, and they held only.. sorrow. So profound, so consuming, that he instantly regretted his earlier curiosity, and vowed to never let Tsubame-chan bear such a suffocating burden on her own, ever.

_Oh, Kaoru, what has happened between you and Kenshin?_

As he hastily looked away, swallowing the question he'd been about to blurt out and stuffing it back deep within his guts, his eyes found Yutaro's and they shared a moment of rare mutual agreement.

"Ah, Kaoru, I think.. I think we best be going," mumbled Yahiko, setting his half-eaten bowl on the table. "I think I overdid it a little today at the dojo, and the food is just not going down well."

Immediately, Yutaro chimed in, "Ah, yes. I, ah, I think I, ahem, thanks for the food. I'll be going early as well. Butler-san will be worried."

An uncomfortable silence ensued, as the youths stood up from the table but could only shuffle their feet uncomfortably, completely oblivious to the fact that on some unconscious level they felt the need to receive Kaoru's permission to leave, or do anything at all in this room, tonight.

"Of course. Thank you for coming over, Yahiko. Yutaro. Please take care." The words were as bright and cheerful as they had ever heard from Kaoru, and secretly Yahiko added yet another notch on his personal respect scale for Kamiya Kaoru. She was strong, so strong, so unfairly, pitifully strong, even when her eyes were overflowing with sorrow so vast that it would have surely swept him away, had he ventured into those waters.

"Then, we'll be going. Thank you again. See you soon."

As one, both Yahiko and Yutaro left the house and hurriedly made their way to the street outside and into the cool evening air. Gasping for breath as though they'd just finished one of their morning training exercises, they silently exchanged a look, charged with a solemn promise.

They would never speak of this night. Ever.

It was the least they could do for their master, for the strongest woman alive.

Kamiya Kaoru.

_Ganbatte, Kaoru. Kenshin._

**End notes:** Hmm. Maybe I'm dragging this out too much. It just kinda turned out that way, the story got away with me. I only had Ch.1 written, and from here on it's just what I remember from 10 yrs ago in my head. There was hardly any plot advancement at all, but.. somehow, I like how it turned out. Faster plot, or leisured pace? Hmm, decisions decisions. Let me know what you think!_  
_


	3. Chapter 3 - That which is wrong

**Chapter 3**

**That which is wrong**

**Morning of October 23, 1880**

Something is wrong. Most would not be able to tell. In truth, I am not certain myself. However, in life there are no certainties. Merely belief. If you follow through on that belief, if you have faith in yourself and those around you, eventually a path will open. You will find your way.

I have found mine. It is here. With Kenshin.

Kenshin.

After all we have been through together, after all you have suffered, the tribulations, the trials, the battles, I know you. I truly do. Perhaps even better than you know yourself. I believe in you, Kenshin. I know you have the courage, the heart. You always have. However, somewhere along the way, in all those years, and through the countless scars you have suffered, the wounds you have inflicted upon others, they made you lose sight of yourself.

Under all those scars, all that blood and after all those tears, I still believe in you Kenshin. I know you. Now you just need to find yourself again. The little boy who knew he could change his fate. The young man who could not abide to let evil have its way. The warrior who ripped his own heart apart so that countless others, a whole nation, could inherit a better tomorrow. They are you, each one and all, yet you are none of them.

Come Kenshin, you must find your way. Come, I will wait for you. I will stay here, right here under your shadow, in your arms, that you may one day finally come to realize that you do belong here. That you are not your past, that the world around you still loves you, and you deserve that love.

You are rightfully entitled to love me, and to be loved back, wholly and unconditionally.

I have watched, patiently and with much trepidation, as you awakened to this realization. Your eyes were slowly opening to the truth. I could hardly contain my joy, the breathless wonder, as slowly, one by one, you shed the hateful lies you had been believing about yourself. As you came to understand who you are. Who we are.

But now, it is all wrong. This, this is not Kenshin. This is someone else. I don't know this person, and now I am scared. Because I am losing you, Kenshin. And that is the only thing I'm afraid of, the only thing I cannot possibly bear.

Don't leave me, Kenshin.

**xxxxxxx**

_Something is wrong._

As the first glimmers of dawn filtered through the tiny gaps in the paper screen wall to tickle her face, Kaoru allowed a weary sigh to escape past her lips and decided it was time to capitulate, realizing that she had not managed to sleep at all – again.

_Something is definitely wrong._

This was the first thought that flashed through her mind as she opened her eyes, after another night of restless struggles against her one-time allies, who had betrayed a most sacred trust. Unable to further repress her irritation, she sat up abruptly and spitefully gathered them in both her arms, balling them up and shoving them away with a muffled snarl, there to a corner against the wall, to stand in silent penitence. In truth, she knew she was being grossly unfair, yet the less than ideal combination of peevish exhaustion from all the involuntary sleep deprivation and the nagging restlessness that kept her up all night, coiling and slithering around her innards until she wanted to scream in helpless frustration, well, those two factors made it very easy indeed to blame her poor futon and pillow. As a matter of fact, the stuffy two-piece she was wearing could and should be considered willing accomplices, so they joined the pile.

_Yes, they deserved it._

Satisfied with her verdict, she glared at the suspect items for a few more moments while inwardly attempting to collect herself and proceeded to tick down the master list inside her head, of all the tasks to be completed today. She kept this up as she dressed herself, not because she was particularly organized or enjoyed pushing the limits of her efficiency, but rather because if there had been one thing she had been able to achieve last night – yes, the piteous plunder of a solitary token victory snatched from the jaws of utter defeat – it had been to careful plan out the day ahead so that she could finally wrap her hands around that nagging feeling of wrongness - the infuriating index that kept poking at her spine every time she turned around - and squeeze with all her might until her veins popped. That would show it.

Still, she knew she was no good at this. Perhaps Megumi would be better able to deal with it. As galling as it was to admit, even inwardly and just to herself, Kaoru knew she was fighting a losing battle, one where she needed all the help she could get. Worse yet, she knew it was a fight that must be waged, no matter the odds.

For one, because she would not, could not stand to lose against that wily old fox-woman, who had wrapped her tail around Kenshin every chance she got. She suspected that half the reason Megumi did so - Hah! More than half, in fact - was just precisely because of this. The infuriating woman could never pass up a chance to work Kaoru up. Grudgingly, Kaoru had to admit that it WAS childish and petty of her, reacting and thinking this way all the while she was – at least partly - aware of Megumi's motivations. Even so.

With a slight shake of her head, she sensibly decided to move on to the second, and more important reason.

Kenshin.

Something was wrong with Kenshin. Of late, she could tell, in those innumerable ways in which a woman can, through the minute nuances of the everyday routine, that something was, or rather, had changed in the man she loved. This, she knew beyond all certainty. Both that she loved him, though it had taken her a long time to come to terms with this realization, and that he had changed.

Change in Kenshin was something she expected. After all, she'd been praying for it every night. For she knew, perhaps better than anyone, of the scars that Kenshin bore, far beneath the skin where no eyes could reach. There, they coiled and festered, consuming his every conscious thought and action, tainting every precious tidbit of happiness her Kenshin deserved until he could bear it no longer, and as a consequence, and perhaps inevitably so, he had completely repudiated himself.

From the very first time Kenshin had smiled, she'd known. As surely as she knew her own name, her own tribulations, her own defiance in the face of such opposition. With absolute clarity, she had been able to discern the truth about this dear, dear man. For in the moment he had first smiled, she had felt nothing but a profound sadness, accompanied by an indignant fury, that someone should have to bear such soul-extinguishing burdens at such a young age. She could read the pain behind his eyes, could feel it behind his smile, under the strenously constructed facade that were his lips and skin as they stretched and tightened over bones and muscle. It was an expression that bore no maliciousness, but neither did it hold any real joy.

Resignation. That was what she saw. The silent walk up an endless staircase, up the side of an infinite abyss, only to plunge ever downward, ever in the dark.

From that day on, she had refused to give up. She had infused her own light into those dark, hollow crevices in his heart, searching for the man behind the mask. She had been determined to pour her own will, her guts and lifeblood if necessary, into the vessel of this precious man, and in so doing redeem him as he himself could not. If he would not, could not do it, then she would pay the price, and do so gladly.

Willfully, she had struggled, refusing to give up, never letting go. Through whispered entreaties and blood-curdling threats; watered from a wellspring of enduring kindness and artfully trimmed with the sudden, judicious application of force as needed – sometimes, that was all men could understand, the power of your fist; heartfelt laughter as a balm to soothe his blistered soul; bittersweet tears when they simply would no longer be held back. All of it, she had devoted to the redemption of his beautiful soul.

It had worked, and in the process she had also found herself, as a woman deeply, truly in love with a man.

Now this man, her man, he was changing yet again. But something was wrong. This uneasy quiver that ran down her spine, it spoke to her of danger. Imminent danger.

Well, she would not back down. Steeling herself once more, she let out a sigh and was half-surprised to find herself mounting the steps that led into the dojo. That's right, this was one battle that she absolutely could not afford to lose. Closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing, she slowly let last night's futile struggles against the morass within her mind slowly coalesce into more solidly defined, rough granite blocks. These, she employed to further strengthen her own determination. She had to keep it together, now more than ever. She would not lose this battle, the most important of her life, for the sake of the man she loved. Grimly, she doused her head with some of the freezing water from the barrel they kept near the dojo's double doors, drawing a gasping, shuddering breath as she forced herself into focus.

"K.. K.. Kaoru-dono?"

As she spun around with an involuntary start, sending flecks of water spraying in a semi-circle around her, she found Kenshin staring at her, frozen in mid-step by the door to the kitchen. From the vegetables that lay in the bowl he cradled in his hands, he was already going about the daily routine of preparing the morning meal. Her Kenshin. Attempting her best to suppress the fierce, feline grin she felt at this thought, she settled instead for her most innocuous smile and nodded her greeting, "Morning Kenshin!"

Looking up at the early morning sky as it slowly let the mellow colors of the sun bleed in among the gray-black clouds, inwardly she reminded herself that it was just the beginning, and even the blackest night must eventually flee before the radiant dawn.

_We are only now getting started, Kenshin. There is so much more for us in the future. This is me, breathless and waiting - for you._

Of course, she could say no such thing to Kenshin. Sometimes, men had to be led by their noses until they were smacked headlong into the truth. Often times, it was the only way. So instead, she poured as much of her inner glee at the prospect of this new day she would share with Kenshin into her smile, and let it naturally diffuse some of its color onto her tone.

"It's a beautiful morning, no?" Without waiting for his reply, she gradually let her gaze flutter back down to repose on Kenshin, and as always, let him see that she meant it, not with her words, but with her eyes. "Ah, I feel today will be a great day."

_Look at me, Kenshin. I'm here for you. I will always be here for you, waiting._

"K.. Kaoru-dono.." Kenshin was avoiding her gaze and scratching his head uncomfortably. She knew he was changing, but now he would not even meet her eyes?

"Kenshin, look at me." The words escaped her lips before she could hold them back, desperation leaking from the smoking cinders of her simmering heart. "Please?"

Still he avoided her gaze, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. "Kaoru-dono, I can't.."

"Why the hell not?" She bit back, irritation finally getting the better of her, the fruit of her many nights of solitary vigil while nibbling on the hardened outer crust of the rock-hard morsel that had become her life's single most intoxicating, infuriating, confounding pleasure: Kenshin.

"Eh.." While holding his gaze steady on what seemed to be a meticulous study of the grain in the wood of the door post, Kenshin's fluttering hand pointed vaguely in the direction of her legs. "You're not wearing.. ah, you're exposed."

"..."

**xxxxxxx**

"Kenshin baka."

"I didn't see anything, really." Kenshin grinned sheepishly from where he huddled, perched across from Kaoru at the breakfast table. As he rubbed at the pink outline of her palm neatly imprinted on his cheek, he was somewhat gratified to find - to his own chagrin - that Kaoru was full of energy today. Surely that was more than worth a stinging cheek. A half dozen reddened cheeks, for that matter. Cheap at twice the price. "Thanks to my training, I can absolutely avoid seeing anything I don't want to see."

As soon as he finished that last sentence, the hand he was using to soothe his numbed face froze in mid-motion as he held his breath.

_Oh boy. Here it comes. No super-human reflexes needed to see this one coming._

"Implying that I'm not even worth catching your eye?" Kaoru snapped, the color in her cheeks once again rising furiously.

Kenshin rapidly backtracked, with the agility worthy of the successor of the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu, "Eh, no, of course not, I wanted to look, I really did!" As soon as the words left his mouth, Kenshin knew that he had neatly managed to disembowel himself with that same legendary efficiency and speed.

Slowly, Kaoru turned her full attention upon him, her head deliberately swiveling towards him, charged like the smoking gunbarrel of a gatling gun, her eyes literally slits that hinted at swift and violent retribution, barely held in check.

"You letch," She breathed, and he barely managed to stop his hands from rubbing at his eyes, for surely no woman ought to be able to spit out fire, particularly his sweet Kaoru. He squinted intently, focusing. That was the last thing he needed now - panic-driven deliriums - as Kaoru grated on, "Is that how you've been looking at me all this time?"

A safe answer, that's what he needed. He had balanced the lives of untold thousands on the hairline thickness of his blade countless times before. He could do this. Mentally, he could envision his master, Hiko Seijuro XIII, standing on Kenshin's right shoulder with both of his powerful arms crossed, nodding to Kenshin in a gesture of absolute confidence.

_Yes, I can do it._

"O.. Oroo?" It was no wonder his master had stuck to sake. Mini-Hiko Seiujurou slumped his shoulders dejectedly and shuffled back to nursing his bottle.

_Alright, fine. So I can't do it. Might as well just get it over with._

Unexpectedly, all tension was gone from Kaoru's expression. Instead, she tilted her head slightly and offered him a loop-sided smile that reached all the way to her eyes and crinkled her nose, making his heart skip a beat. "Kenshin, don't.. change too quickly, ne?"

_Huh? _

Kenshin glanced down to quickly check whether he'd also neglected some item of clothing, but everything seemed to be in order. This prompted the tinkling sound of Kaoru's laughter, which made him glance back up. Her eyes were dancing with merriment, inviting him to join in as only she could.

So he did.

_Yes, it would be a good day._


	4. Chapter 4 - The Stranger in Your Eyes

**Chapter 4**

**The Stranger in Your Eyes**

**Morning of October 23, 1880**

"Hyaaaa!"

Drops of sweat steadily trickled down her face, blurring her sight as the stinging salt got into her eyes. Still, Kaoru held her position for a moment longer, her back straight and arms held out horizontally in front of her. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she struggled to maintain a balanced center of gravity, the tip of her shinai hovering in the air, rhythmically swaying up and down in tempo with her labored breathing.

Out of a corner of her eye, she could see Kenshin squatting in the yard outside, with his legs neatly folded to distribute his body weight evenly. He was humming contentedly, his eyes half-closed to protect them from the glare of the sun. She had already suggested – several times, as a matter of fact – that he move under the shade offered by the back of the building. He'd simply smiled at her and shaken his head, then continued to hum softly to himself while resuming his labor. Secretly, she was glad for this. As a matter of fact, she had counted on it. After all, she had carefully engineered today's to-do list so as to maximize the amount of time she could spend in his close proximity, without making it too obvious. Contrary to what common sense would dictate, even men had eyes to see. They just refused to open them, more often than not.

Letting out a final, even breath that emptied her lungs completely, she finally relaxed her stance and shook her head lithely from side to side, stretching her neck muscles and sending droplets of sweat flying all around her. In truth, she was trying to sneak a closer look at Kenshin, her eyes drawn to him magnetically. While she felt slightly guilty for defiling the sanctity of the dojo by not focusing her mind on her training as she should, she was quietly grateful that both Yahiko and Yutaro were training at another dojo for the day, leaving Kaoru to worry about the matter that had become her most pressing concern these days.

There he was, blithely unaware of Kaoru's confusing mix of envy and pride as she admired how perfectly balanced his stance was at all times, even now while engaging in such a mundane task as washing the practice robes from last week's training. She could feel a slow smile creeping into her face, and since no one else was watching, she indulged in it. She would work twice as hard to make up for her inattentiveness in training these past few weeks, once she finally solved this latest problem.

_If only it were that simple._

Kenshin's problem. My problem. It had started a few weeks back, with an incident that had been rather spectacular on its own, but had revealed far more serious and frightening possibilities. Kenshin had simply burnt their dinner – but had immolated the whole kitchen as well in the process.

She had rushed out of the dojo when she spotted the billowing column of black smoke drifting past her window, wondering where Kenshin could have wandered off to instead of minding the fire. As she had burst into the kitchen, she had nearly crashed bodily into Kenshin, who simply stood in the middle of the thick column of ink-black smoke. It wasn't just the food, the fire had spread to the wooden cupboards above and it was slowly licking at the contiguous walls.

"Kenshin! What.. Are you alright? The fire! Why are you.." Her voice faltered as she maneuvered around him to look at his face.

_This.. This is not Kenshin._

A great roar from her right loudly announced that one of the smoldering wooden partitions holding up the roof had finally burst on fire in a spectacular fashion, and ridiculously enough, at that moment she could not have cared less. She could not bring herself to tear her eyes away from Kenshin, who was not Kenshin, while precious seconds ticked away.

"Kenshin?"

She hated sounding so helpless, so confused, so lonely, but it couldn't be helped. The look on Kenshin's face had pierced her through and through, driving past her in an instantaneous lunge that had smashed all her defenses and rendered her completely vulnerable. It was as though he could not see her, could not hear her, no matter how much she called.

"KENSHIN!"

Gathering one potent burst of energy, she flung herself on top of him, crashing against the far wall and away from the unbearable heat - just in time to narrowly miss a section of the roof that had collapsed, exploding into flaming debris at her feet.

_No, I won't let it end like this. Not like this!_

Matching words to action, she coughed out the last of her weakness and firmly planted herself on her feet. Quickly scanning her surroundings, she saw that the burning section of the roof that had fallen earlier had included a thick beam that was leaning against the entrance, effectively barring the only exit. A frantic glance around the room confirmed her suspicion that the couple windows that had been built in were only meant for ventilation, and would not fit two grown adults. Closing her eyes momentarily, she could feel the odious claws of despair tugging at her feet. With grim determination, she crushed them under her heels as she took a moment to compose herself and scan her surroundings more carefully.

_I will not give up. I refuse to give up._

Kaoru rushed over to the only other accessible corner of the room and opened the small barrel of water they kept for cooking. This would not be nearly enough to even open a tiny escape path in the midst of this inferno, let alone put it out. Snatching up a large apron Megumi had used the few times she had occupied the kitchen, she shoved it into the barrel until it was completely soaked, then wrapped it loosely around her head. She then used a bowl to douse herself as thoroughly as she could in the couple heartbeats she could spare to the task. Satisfied, she discarded the bowl and turned around, fixating her gaze on her target and steeling herself.

Kamiya Kaoru rushed headlong into the flaming inferno, trying her best to ignore the smell of scorched flesh and the sizzle of burning fat. Her hand reached down to snatch up the heavy hatched that was used when they had to break down oversized pieces of firewood to fit their tiny stove. This, the only tool she could possibly think to salvage, she brought back out into the relative safety of the tiny space where Kenshin still stood.

Breathing heavily in ragged wheezes, she struggled over to the barrel once more, only to find the water gone, likely through a small crack she had not noticed, produced by the debris that was falling everywhere. Would it matter, she wondered. She had been fortunate, she knew. She had only singed her hair a little, and now that she was out of the fire she could see that the smell was coming from the flames licking away at their food stocks. Such luck would not avail her here, she knew. Kaoru looked back over her shoulder at the beam blocking the exit. It was thicker than her waist, a massive post that had likely been selected for its sturdiness. She shook her head stubbornly. She would not give in.

"Don't worry Kenshin, I will get us out. I'm here for you. I will not let you die. I will protect you," she promised out loud, her voice gaining in strength as she heard herself. She knew it was more for the benefit of her own ears than for Kenshin himself. It reminded her of what was at stake.

Gripping the hatchet tightly in both hands, she set her feet in the wide stance that was used for an extended overhand swing. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe because of the fumes, but still she composed herself for a moment longer, blocking everything out except her target. If only she could cleave that beam, they could still get out. As she gathered her feet to spring forward, gritting her teeth and grimly resolving to stay in that fire for as many swings as it took to bring down her obstacle, a firm hand closed upon her wrist from behind.

"Kaoru-dono, allow me," came Kenshin's voice, right next to her ear.

Her knees turned to jelly, and she almost collapsed from relief. The next thing she knew, Kenshin had gently taken the hatchet from her hand. She could almost laugh at how comical it was, to watch Kenshin squaring himself up against the offending beam, using the rusty hatched that was their only hope.

Cleanly, beautifully, like always, in one decisive swing that started from his legs, then up around his waist, into his back and finally out through his arms, Kenshin smashed through the wooden column. Poetry in motion, the sight captivated her not only as a woman, but as a fellow warrior. Pity she couldn't dawdle to admire it for a while longer. In the next breath, he cradled her in his arms, tenderly yet with irresistible strength, and sent them hurtling through the flames and into the safety of the night outside.

Fortunately, as the kitchen had been built as an isolated outhouse, the fire had not spread any further. She had pointedly decided to ignore whispered comments that such design reflected the wisdom of the former master, who had likely foreseen a similar incident, given his daughter's prowess – or lack thereof – in the kitchen. After all, she knew Yahiko and Yutaro were likely only trying to cheer her up, in their own way.

Kenshin had apologized over and over for the incident. He claimed to have had a high fever and been nearly delirious when the incident occurred. Kaoru had taken a long moment to look into his eyes, speaking the words she couldn't not voice, the questions only he could answer, and then smiled in acceptance. She could wait. She would, for as long as it took.

_I will protect you, Kenshin._

A dry popping sound coming from her hand accompanied by a sharp flash of pain snatched her back to the present. Wincing slightly, Kaoru carefully relaxed her grip on the shinai she held in order to untangle her fingers. Her knuckles had gone completely white from lack of circulation, and she could feel nothing but a tingling buzz coming from them. Closing her eyes, she struggled to keep her composure. Feeling slowly leaked back into her hand. From the warm, excessive moisture gathering between her fingers, she didn't have to look down to know she had split another nail.

_I can't afford to be distracted. Not now._

After that incident, the mystery had continued. Kenshin would pause from time to time, without rhyme or reason, and stare beyond the walls of the dojo, out into a world that was beyond Kaoru's reach. This was what she could not bear. She had learned to wait, to be patient, to allow her man the time he needed to heal his many wounds and learn to accept her love.

This was different, however. She could taste it in the air. A sweet metallic tang, with a bitter aftertaste. She could not identify it, couldn't place it, but she knew she was familiar with it. It tasted of broken promises, of heartrending farewells, of truncated dreams and ruthless, unbearable finality.

Kenshin who was not Kenshin, he frightened her. Not only because he represented everything that Kaoru stood to lose, all the dreams that would never be fulfilled. The love that would never know its perfect counterpart. No, it was also because she could sense that this Kenshin was a completely different animal from the man she loved. She would have never let this person into her home, into her life, in the first place. Not only that. She would have run away, as far and fast as possible. Not because of lack of courage or strength, but because this was a force of nature, a cataclysm waiting to be unleashed. It was not a question of if, it was a matter of when.

Kenshin who was not Kenshin was slowly drowning out the voice of the man Kamiya Kaoru loved.

_Kenshin. Kenshin, I will protect you._

There it was again. Kenshin's laundry lay forgotten in his hands, while he simply stood there, staring blindly ahead, venturing into a world far, far beyond her reach.

_No, don't go. Don't leave me, Kenshin._

Before she even knew it, she found herself standing in front of Kenshin, looking deeply into his vacant eyes, struggling with all of her unspoken will to find the man she loved from the abyss that lurked within.

"Kenshin?"

Little did she know, the abyss had room for two.


	5. Chapter 5 - Remembrace

**Chapter 5**

**Remembrance**

**Evening of October 23, 1880**

"Kenshin, am I.. am I a burden to you?"

If the words were not enough of a shock, the unspoken vulnerability hidden behind them did the job. Kenshin froze in mid-motion, his cup of tea suspended in front of his face, trying to slow the thundering in his ears and pull himself back from the brink of the abyss. He had been treading on the razor-sharp edge of a treacherous defile the whole evening, meandering through countless plots and schemes to make it all better, for the sake of Kaoru if nothing else. The whole time while he had been preparing dinner, going through the motions of eating, and even while clearing the dishes after seeing Yahiko and Yutaro off, Kenshin had desperately been struggling to find inspiration where there was none.

Heedless of his intense inner battle, or perhaps in spite of it, Kaoru had settled comfortably on the floor, and calmly asked him to join for tea.

Kaoru, she had grown so much. She had always been courageous, even to the point of recklessness. However, through the many trials and crises she had overcome in her relatively young life, her valor had become tempered with wisdom. It was this last that he appreciated the most while the seconds stretched in the silence as she waited for his reply. Calmly seated with her legs folded underneath her, she did not press him for an answer, did not waver in her steadfast vigil at all. She merely waited.

This wait, he had been aware of it long before she had finally spoken the words. The question itself was a mere formality. They had lived under the same roof long enough that some things did not actually need to be said in order to be conveyed. Kenshin had known this before he even heard Kaoru's first words that evening when she first stepped into the room where he had sat gloomily picking at his own dinner, mechanically attempting to make small talk with Yahiko and Yutaro.

He had first felt Kaoru's presence behind his back outside the room, and his trained senses had easily been able to pick up the slight hesitation and the tense breaths she had taken in before composing herself and stepping into the room, lightly chiding her disciples and Kenshin for not summoning her for dinner.

What had surprised Kenshin the most had not been this farce Kaoru had put up in front of Yahiko and Yutaro. Rather, it was the fact that it was not a facade at all. Her eyes had still been swollen and reddened from her earlier outburst, but the calm serenity that seemed to emanate from her to everyone in the room, it was no trickery. Even now she was making no demands, though he knew she should have been burning for answers. If not answers, then at the very least excuses.

Kenshin could offer neither.

Kaoru, however, had not demanded. She had merely waited. Her words, her smile, the way she poured the tea or asked for seconds, it was all part of her wordless entreaty to Kenshin. _I am here_, she seemed to be saying. _I am not going anywhere – and don't think for a second you are, either._

It was a deeply moving gesture, and a selfless, thankless task while Kenshin struggled with his inner demons. Thing was, he had no answers for her. None. He did not know who this person, this Naomi was, or why he had called out her name. It was all part of the strange, intermittent lapses in his memory that he had been suffering lately.

They did not seem to follow any set pattern or trigger. One moment he would be sweeping the floor, drinking tea, or washing clothes, and the next thing he knew the sun would have already set, kitchens burned down to cinders, and Kaoru – oh, sweet Kaoru – would be reduced to a weeping girl with her heart in her eyes.

What troubled him the most were not these mysterious flashbacks. After all, he had struggled with the numerous ghosts from his past for many, many years now. Those, however, had faces and names. He could recall with disturbing clarity the dazzling spray of crimson as lifeblood splattered in an arc behind each one of his past victims. If he closed his eyes, he could easily pinpoint the exact moment the panic, anger, or grief finally leaked out of their eyes, leaving behind only a vacant stare – a mere lump of flesh where there had been a man before. It was that vivid.

These latest fissures in his life, however, were just that. Vast crevices where only darkness lurked. He did not know what it was he saw or relived in those haunted moments, but eventually he would find himself back in his body. At times, he was left with a deep, red-hot rage that had balled his hands into fists and driven splinters of whatever item he had been holding deep into the flesh of his hands, blood dripping steadily down his elbows. Or he could hardly draw a breath, as though he had forgotten how to breathe, and his mouth would open wide in a silent scream while his lungs would spasm desperately before they would finally draw a shuddering breath that brought no reprieve.

He never knew what the next vision would bring him, but he did bring one item back with him from every such trip. Every time he came back to himself, he felt instantly awash with a profound sense of loss that he just could not shake off. It clung to him and added a silent burden to his soul, day by day, and he knew he was close to the breaking point now.

How could he express such to Kaoru? How could he explain that he loved her, and yet he was missing something in his life? That he felt such loss that could never be fulfilled, not even with her by his side?That would be an act of betrayal that he could not stomach. And so, he kept his silence, and tried to delve into the recesses of his mind in order to draw some answers he could live with.

This proved to be an entirely fruitless endeavor, and he could now see that it could no longer be put off.

"Yes," he finally answered, with as much conviction as he could inject into it.

The single word was all that was needed. _It is a lie. A lie. Nothing but a lie. I'm sorry, Kaoru. This is the best I can do for you, to keep you safe._

"Liar." The single word was grated out between clenched teeth. Kenshin could feel Kaoru's stare boring into him without having to look up.

"Coward." It was not an accusation. Rather, it was an admonition. One filled with the helpless, uneven love that demands sacrifices which are given out willingly and without hesitation. For some reason, it reminded Kenshin of Kaoru gently brushing away grains of rice from Yahiko's chin earlier this evening.

"Kenshin, you have lived your whole life as a sword, as a guardian watching over everyone but yourself. It is so embedded into you now, that it has become second nature to you. But you are not a blade, an object. You are Kenshin, a person, a man I have come to know and deeply.. appreciate. It is alright to be selfish, it is alright to feel vulnerable and lost from time to time. That's why we have each other. That's why I'm here." Her words were rolling out smoothly, as though she had rehearsed them but he knew she had not. It was all those times Kenshin had felt her gaze on him when she thought he was not aware, he realized. She reflected on his actions, worried after his thoughts, and would never surrender him.

_So this is what it is means to have a home._

"You are not alone. Never again. Won't you lean on me, Kenshin? Won't you let me bear this burden with you? You don't have to -"

"So, you deeply.. appreciate me?" Kenshin interrupted her gently, finally raising his eyes to hers and smiling his surrender.

"Eh?" Kaoru looked like she'd been clubbed. All of her earlier poise and grace seemed to fly out the window as she stammered a reply, all the while her cheeks glowing hot with pink. "Well, I mean, you know. It's nothing special. Well, I mean it is, but not like -"

He interrupted a second time, this time without words, but rather with a single gesture that he hoped could encompass in at least some small measure the overwhelming gratitude and love he could feel brimming in his heart for this beautiful woman.

Kaoru's lips stopped trying to form words, and instead slowly curled into a contented smile, reciprocating, as she squeezed Kenshin's hand back.

**xxxxxx**

Steam slowly wafted up into the air as Kaoru sipped from her tea, her eyes downcast and heavy with concern. "So you really don't remember anything?"

Kenshin shook his head, gazing out the door as the first rays of the sun started to filter in through the gloomy morning haze.

"It feels like I'm trapped in a dream, or a nightmare. I'm not sure which."

"From the way you describe it, I would lean towards the latter," Kaoru mumbled into her cup.

"I just don't understand why I can't remember anything even though I see it so vividly that I completely lose myself to these visions." Kenshin went on, as though he had not heard her. "It is almost as though something were forcefully suppressing.."

Kenshin trailed off the sentence as his gaze fell to the cup of tea he cradled in his heads, forgotten, and found his reflection looking back at him from within that surface. If only he could put this stranger to the question.

"How can something I don't remember feel so real, so immediate that I would lose all touch with reality? Why would I forget a memory that has been etched so deeply into my unconscious?" he demanded, frustration lending an edge to his voice.

"Well, how do you know that they're real in the first place? What is there to say that they're memories? Maybe they are just visions conjured up by your guilt and pain," offered Kaoru helpfully from where she sat watching him.

"No, they're as real as you and I are. This, I know," came the swift, firm reply. "I know this beyond any doubt. Whatever specters I face when I'm trapped in there, however incorporeal they might be, I always bring back scars that feel as real as anything I've experienced before. I bear the proof of their existence branded in my living flesh."

Kenshin unconsciously reached out for Kaoru's hand once more, seeking the warm comfort her touch offered. The fear, the anger, but more than anything, the sorrow, they were far too intense and immediate to be imagined, mere ghosts conjured by his tortured soul.

"If I didn't have you, I don't know what I would do. You don't know what it is like, in here," he added, pressing a fist against his chest. "At times, when I come back, it is so dark and hollow, I'm afraid to live with myself. Despair so black it blots out everything within sight taints my every breath, my every thought."

Kenshin's voice cut off as he closed his eyes and an involuntary shudder ran through his body, struggling against the numbing cold the visions brought him.

Kaoru tried to change the topic, all the while squeezing some more warmth into his hand. "You said this has never happened to you before. If it all started recently, there must be some trigger. Something must have set this in motion."

The lack of reply did not seem to discourage her. In fact, she voice just gained conviction as she continued, "At least we know one of your ghosts now. We have a name."

Kaoru's hand involutarily tightened around Kenshin's fingers as she looked expectantly at him.

"Naomi," he breathed, and his heart constricted within his chest.

With this name, he had lanced a knife straight into Kaoru's heart. Just a few hours ago, armed with nothing but this single word, he had driven this strong, courageous woman to collapse in wordless tears. She had not raised a single question about the name this whole time, had in fact skirted around the topic on purpose. At first he had thought it was out of consideration for him, but now, as he looked down into her eyes and saw the flicker of a shadow skirt across their depths, he knew better.

It had not been just the name, he realized. That was just an empty shell devoid of any substance to fill it and give it a meaning, a purpose . Or rather, that's the way it should have been. In reality, it had been a vessel that he had suffused with all the desperate longing and all the aching need that had exploded from him as his composure had shattered. This was the dark promise that a single name had fulfilled.

"Kaoru, why are you crying?" He hadn't noticed the teardrops slowly sliding down her face.

Kaoru looked startled, but recovered swiftly and smiled gently up at him, offering comfort and understanding. She wordlessly reached up to lay the back of her hand against his cheek, then showed it to him.

"Silly Kenshin, you're the one who's crying."

Kenshin touched a hand to his face, and it came away wet with tears. "Oh."

Tenderly, Kaoru's hands cupped his face and delicately pulled his head down to rest on her bosom, where he could feel the steady beat of her heart.

"It's alright, Kenshin. Shh, it's alright," she breathed in hushed tones. "Welcome back, Kenshin. You are home."

Her voice was tinged with a mellow undertone of sorrow and a single, lingering note of hope, but more than anything, her voice sung to him of deep, abiding love.

_I will find you Naomi._

Kenshin closed his eyes as he felt the fluttering of Kaoru's heart, so strong and at the same time so fragile.

_I will find you and I will kill you, once and for all._

Suddenly, a burning heat scorched his chest, rumbling from deep inside him. As though in a fever dream, he could visualize a corner of his soul bound and sealed away by chains that had grown frayed and tattered with time, strained beyond all measure. He could hear the cracks rumbling their way around invisible shackles he could feel for the first time in his life. In the all-consuming heat, the glare burned in his vision yet he found he could not turn away. The foundations of his very being were being rocked as a soft voice drifted to him to serenely settle all around him.

"**_At long last, Shinta. It has been the endless wait of a thousand days, a thousand times a thousand. And now that it is come, it feels far, far too swift. But you are here at last. The time has come. My last gift to you, beloved. Remember."_**

White hot now, the chains finally exploded into a myriad fragments that rained all around him, and then the blinding blue-white fire rushed up to swallow him, and thankfully led him into a soundless, light-less cocoon. A single whisper echoed from within this dream.

"_**Remember."**_

And so he did.

**End Notes** - If anyone's still following the story, sorry if I made ya wait and look forward to the actual story! Finally! ^_^


	6. Chapter 6 - The Slave and the Girl

**Chapter 6**

**The slave, the girl and the promise**

**Year 1858**

A small hummingbird flirted shamelessly against the petals of a wild flower as it beat its wings in a shimmering display of color, caressing here and pecking there, an expert at its art. It cajoled the prim, innocent petals with careless ease, not only because of the suitor's own expertise, but also from inborn natural instinct which had instilled a clear knowledge of which blooms would offer the sweetest dew, and which would deny even the boldest of advances.

All of this was completely lost to Shinta as he struggled mightily to open his mouth and utter some sound which could somehow magically dispel the pall of idiocy he was sure he had completely sunken under within these past few moments of silence, which to him felt like hours toiling and drowning in his own sweat under the merciless sun of a sweltering summer afternoon. Which, of course, it was not. In fact, it was a temperate day swept with a pleasant autumn breeze flowing through the tree, bearing the faint scent of moist earth and wet grass. It was all lost on Shinta as he drew a labored breath and swiped the sweat from his brow, struggling to keep up with the conversation.

".. instantly, right?" The sudden silence that followed seemed too vast to fill, yet too deliberate to ignore.

Finally, a chance to impress, to show that he was a smart boy, perfectly able to keep up his own end in an intelligent, involved conversation.

"Ah.. Eh.. I mean.. Um, Yes," He finished desperately, out of breath as though he'd given a whole speech and barely suppressing a groan at his own stupidity.

Thankfully, Shinta's interlocutor carried on as though that was more than satisfactory, and continued to speak in that excited, lilting rhythm that he found so fascinating, as though every word she spoke were a delightful new secret, a homage to the greatest hidden treasures of the world.

"I knew it! Of course, there's also a very interesting.." she continued, and Shinta couldn't help but sigh contentedly as he resigned himself to remaining silent under the suspicion of idiocy, rather than speaking out of turn and removing all doubt.

And so the day wore on as the sun lazily painted a scribble across the sky which could only be traced by its absence. An angry, purplish hue began to bleed into the horizon as a few winking stars slowly dotted the firmament, and moisture seemed to collect in the air.

"Shinta, don't worry. We'll be out of the way by the time the storm hits," she confided as she caught his glance at the clouds rolling above. Somehow she always seemed to read his mind, responding to his unspoken thoughts as though he were an open book. This led to a very peculiar struggle between conflicting feelings within his head.

On one hand, he was delighted – ecstatic, even – to find that they could share such rapture together, that their minds could be so in synch with one another that she could finish his thoughts and answer to them before he was even aware of them. As though somehow Nana-chan and Shinta himself had been made like this and were supposed to fit together. It felt as though she somehow completed him, made him whole. It was a strange, wondrous feeling that made him giddy and warm and embarrassed, all at once.

"It is fate," she had easily explained, when he'd inquired about it. "We were just meant to be, Shinta." She had simply smiled into his eyes with her artfully disarming demeanor, shrugging away the babbled questions Shinta had mustered, all the while he was blushing furiously and wondering if all 9 year olds were supposed to feel this awkward and clumsy. What was this fate thing anyway? She had refused any further comments on the subject, and had instead grinned toothily at him. Were it anyone else, he would have protested and demanded that she stop making fun of him. Of course, this was Nana-chan. So he simply grinned back, not sure why but only knowing it felt like the natural thing to do.

On the other hand, he kept having to shove aside the most ridiculous pangs of jealousy as he felt somewhat left out in the midst of this unspoken conversation she seemed to enjoy holding with the stranger inside Shinta's head, this charming presence who seemed to know all the right things to say even without uttering a single word, who could hold the attention of the luminous creature standing before him, precariously perched upon the edge of a mossy, weathered log, with her bare feet danging carelessly under her. After all, there must be a reason as to why she suffered his presence. Indeed, Nana-chan seemed to enjoy Shinta's company nearly as much he himself enjoyed basking in Nana-chan's glory. Which, of course, seemed wholly ridiculous to him. Surely, it could not be Shinta himself. He could barely piece two words together when confronted with her dancing eyes, teasing and brimming with laughter, but the depths of which he could never fathom. She could not be that much older than himself, a handful of years perhaps. 13? 14? Yet he felt foolish and guileless as a babe under her gaze, naked and vulnerable under her placid scrutiny. He knew this was part of the reason he couldn't seem to put two coherent words together in front of her. While at times his frustration at his own incompetence in this most crucial of tasks would knot up his guts and choke him from the inside, he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that when the next day dawned he would feel irresistibly compelled to seek her out once more. Wise beyond her years, she was a complete mystery, but all the more alluring and, of course, completely irresistible.

Of course, Shinta was no mere boy himself. In his own short life, Shinta had seen things he knew were not meant for the eyes of a child. His parents had slowly wasted away in front of his eyes, along with most of the people dear to him. The plague had seen them dead and buried long before his tears could dry up. The remaining adults in the village, the only ones he could depend on, had instead sold him to grim, cruel-looking men who had taken one long, cold assessing look at him, and had bought him without addressing him at all – as though he were not even there.

Shinta had known then that he was no longer a boy, and would never be a man. Instead, he was to become a slave. On that very day, he had lost the last few friends he had left in this world. He could see it in their eyes, the way they avoided looking at him as he had been filed away from the village, off to the unknown. They knew they would never see him again, and so he had simply ceased to exist in their eyes. Would he always lose everyone precious to him, for the rest of his life?

"Nana-chan, are you a slave too?" Shinta interjected in the midst of the latest stream of commentary from his companion, knowing he was being brusque and rude, but desperate to find some common ground, unbearably afraid that someday he would lose her as well.

A brief silence followed, during which he kept his gaze lowered in fearful study of his own shadow at his feet, as though he could dredge up an answer to his query from its depths, or perhaps hear it whispered from the too-loud thumping of his heart. Shinta wished he could be braver, like Nana-chan. Finally, when there was no response forthcoming, he risked a glance at her.

Nana-chan gazed back at him with a furious look in her eyes, her lips tightly pressed together and her cheeks flooding with color. Her silence only made it worse, as though she were compressing all those words, her imagined curses and screams, into that indignant glare that went through him like a bolt of lightning and left him shivering and breathless, wondering how it was that he was still standing, whole and alive.

Again, she seemed to read his mind. She closed her eyes and visibly composed herself, letting out a deep breath that seemed to deflate her from the inside, slowly shedding layer upon layer of fury and thunder. When her eyes opened once more, only the steel remained, without any of the molten lava that had been raging within. He had let her down again, somehow. Dejectely, Shinta went back to shuffling within his own shadow.

"Shinta," she started, her voice charged with heat but folding gently around him like an embrace, and paused until his downcast eyes found hers once more. "Shinta, you are not a slave. No matter what anyone says, you will never be a slave."

"But I've been sold and my family.." Protested Shinta helplessly. "My parents are dead. My friends are dead. Everyone is dead and no one cares. Sometimes, not even I care."

Shinta had to swallow past the knot in his throat, tears suddenly threatening to burst forth, welling up from deep inside his chest. He managed to hold them back while he continued with a tremorous voice, squeezing his eyes shut so his childish tears couldn't betray him. "They are gone, forever, and no one knows. No one remembers. No one knows my name, who I am, where I'm from. I'm just a slave, and that's all that matters to them. To anyone. To everyone."

"Shinta, do you trust me?" asked Nana-chan, and the way she phrased the question, it didn't seem to be one of the usual one-sided conversations that she held with the stranger in his head. She sounded oddly vulnerable and held her breath while waiting for his answer.

"Yes. Yes, I do," Shinta responded, slowly and with his eyes still closed, but with all the conviction he could muster.

It was true. Though they had barely known each other for a few weeks, though she made his head spin and he felt utterly foolish and helpless as a small child in her presence, he trusted her. He trusted her completely, with a boundless capacity that suddenly astonished him. After all, he had doubted he would ever trust again, not after the way life had betrayed him.

"I trust you, Nana-chan," Shinta repeated passionately, determined to let her see his sincerity. Then he could feel Nana's hands on his head, gently pulling him forward. He opened his eyes to find her leaning towards him, inches away from his face. Startled, he tried to pull himself away, but Nana held him fast as she closed the distance and rested her forehead against his.

"Shinta," Nana-chan breathed, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his face as she spoke. "I trust you too. I trust you to believe in me, even when you lose everything else. I trust you to find yourself, even if I'm not by your side. And I trust you to find me once more."

Her words didn't make any sense to him, but he could feel this was important to her. She whispered the words slowly, nursing them in her mouth, treasuring each as it left her lips, as though silently praying that they would reach him. She seemed to pour herself into this exchange with frightening intensity, one that felt too intimate for his comfort, but one that spread a comforting warmth and pleasant weigh that rolled inside his chest, stretching old scars and stirring aching wounds that had never quite closed.

"Nana-chan, I don't understand," mumbled Shinta, feeling wholly inadequate for the present circumstance and all the more ashamed for it.

"I know you don't Shinta," came the calm reply. "I'm sorry, but I can't explain. We're both too young, and the world is too cruel. Someday, I will explain everything. Until then, I need you to trust me and be strong. Can you do this? For me, Shinta?"

Shinta nodded wordlessly, still confused but fiercely determined not to fail Nana-chan.

"Oh Shinta, you are strong, as you must be. So gentle, kind and caring. This will be your strength, and your undoing. I wish I could be by your side through it all, but I can't. We don't have much time left." For the first time since Shinta had met her, Nana-chan seemed to have trouble finding words, as though she were dragging a heavy stone behind each, and it were all she could bear to slowly piece together her message to him.

"What do you mean, Nana-chan? Are you going somewhere? Are you leaving me..?" Shinta cried piteously, and barely kept himself from adding "too" to his question. She had just asked him to be strong, and he hated that he could not comply, hated that he was so weak and confused.

Nana-chan wound her arms around him and drew him into an embrace that crushed the breath from him, and Shinta wordlessly hugged her back, just as fiercely. "I can't stay here, Shinta. I wish I could, but I can't. As it is, I've stayed longer than I should. I dare not meddle any further. I should have never come in the first place."

Shockingly, Nana-chan's words dissolved into fitful sobs, and Shinta realized the moisture on his neck was not his own. As her cries ran through him, as her body shook against his and he felt her trembling in his arms, he knew that her words held deep sadness yet no regret. How long had she been crying without him realizing it, he wondered. From the time when she had first embraced him? No, from the start of their conversation earlier today, behind her seemingly careless, animated gestures? Or since the first time they'd met, all those days back when he'd first been bewitched by her quicksilver smile and teasing eyes? Had she always been harboring this desperate sorrow within her? How could he have been so blind?

Nana's hands were still trembling slightly as she gently disengaged herself from their embrace, pulling back just enough to look down on his face. Her deep lavender eyes were, as always, a mystery, but the corners of her mouth valiantly lifted into a tremulous smile, and she tapped his nose with the tip of her finger. "No, Shinta. It is not your fault. It is no one's fault. What will be, will be, without rhyme or reason. The story of our lives, it unfolds and stretches infinitely in front of us, and if anything, you have given me the courage and joy to last me for a lifetime."

Shinta desperately wished he were older. Stronger. Perhaps then he would know what to say, what to do. How to protect Nana, how to wipe away her tears and tell her it would be alright. As it was, he could only stare mutely at her, and balled up his fists at her back with impotent fury. After all, he had still not been able to do anything for Nana. It had always been Nana making his day brighter. Nana chasing away the darkness. Nana bringing warmth and comfort to his wounded heart.

"Shinta, you may not realize it now, but one day you will. One day, you will know the burden of becoming a blade in another's hand. You too will bear the lives of countless others upon your back. The soul-extinguishing sorrow of taking one innocent life to spare the many."

Smiling brightly down at him with tears gently flowing from her eyes, Shinta thought he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

"I will always be with you, Shinta. No matter how far apart we are, no matter where you go and what you do. You will always be Shinta to me, and I will always love you."

"I.. I love.. I love.." Shinta choked back, while her smile grew increasingly blurry in his shimmering eyes.

"Shh, Shinta. I know. I will listen to you, when we meet again," whispered Nana-chan back. "I want you to say it to me properly then. Hush now. They are here. I tarried too long, I thought we had more time."

"Listen to me now, Shinta," Nana-chan firmly laid both of her hands on Shinta's shoulders, looking at him squarely in the eyes. "There are men coming. Evil men. They will have nothing but cruelty and death in their minds. I wish I could spare you this, spare you all of it, but I can't. I dare not. You will have to be strong, Shinta. Be strong, and know that wherever you are, I will always be with you. Will you promise, Shinta?"

"I promise," Shinta swore, and meant it with every fiber of his being. He would become strong.

"A promise sealed," whispered Nana-chan, and so quickly that he wondered whether it truly happened, she brushed her lips lightly across his, and there was some alien object in his mouth. He reflexively swallowed, and the corners of his vision seemed to blur and shrink as Nana-chan's smile grew distant and hazier, unbearably so. Mutely, he raised his hand to reach for her, and grasped only at air. It was then that he realized he had fallen on the ground.

As he desperately screamed at his limbs to move, to obey him, he saw dark shadows coalesce into menacing figures ringing the small clearing where he and Nana-chan had taken refuge. They cautiously spread out in a semi-circle around Nana, drawing long swords that gleamed dully under the moonlight with an air of nonchalance and ease that terrified Shinta. Nana-chan's eyes narrowed as she lowered herself into a semi-crouch and drew a thin, narrow blade from a scabbard that seemed to materialize from thin air. She held her sword firmly in her right fist, canted slightly so the hilt almost rested against her cheek with the blade pointed down toward her knees, while her scabbard rested loosely in her left hand in a backwards grip that she held along her side. Her feet shifted weightlessly as she cast her eyes about, studying her opponents.

As the edges of his vision grew frayed and he slipped into unconsciousness, he saw Nana throw him one last look over her shoulder before she spun away into the gloom, with the ominous figures rushing at her from all sides. There were simply too many opponents, and his last sight of Nana-chan before darkness swallowed him was that of a nightmare splattered in blood.


End file.
